Elliot and the Goblin War Read Online Free PDF Page B

definitely bacon sizzling downstairs, and he was certain he detected the quiet thup of toast popping up. He’d asked the Brownies to provide his family with dinner. Was it possible they would provide food for the entire day? He jumped out of bed and ran from his room so quickly that he didn’t notice the tiny dart stuck into his bed, not four inches from where his head had been.
    The poison dart had been Fudd’s first idea. But Fudd wasn’t a good shot, and he’d only brought one poison dart with him. Rule number eight in The Guidebook to Evil Plans clearly stated, “Always have a backup plan in case your first try misses (page 24).” Fudd had forgotten that rule tonight, but he wouldn’t let himself forget again.
    He poofed himself directly to Flog, the Goblin city. Fudd was fully aware that the last Brownie to accidentally poof himself into Flog came home with most of his fingers bitten off, but Fudd was no ordinary Brownie, and he had not come here by accident.
    Fudd was—until yesterday—the closest advisor to Queen Bipsy, making him the second most powerful Brownie in the Underworld. By the end of today, he planned to be the closest advisor to Grissel, leader of the Goblins, and the newest secret enemy of King Elliot.
    The Goblins stared at him with hunger in their black eyes, and Fudd shuddered. The eyes alone wouldn’t be so bad, but combined with their jagged teeth and mossy green skin, Goblins were never a pretty sight. It had been over a thousand years since a Goblin won the Miss Underworld Beauty Pageant. As the story went, the only reason she won was because the other entrants were literally scared to death of her. Being the only living contestant by the end of the show, the crown was hers.
    The Goblins were at that moment fighting over bites of an enormous pumpkin. Fudd hoped they would be so full of pumpkin that they wouldn’t want to eat him. But he knew better. Goblins were always hungry for Brownies.
    Dear Reader, I’m sure you can understand this. While we humans don’t eat Underworld creatures, most humans feel there is always room for one more bite of the chocolate cake–like dessert known as a brownie. For Goblins, it’s not much different.
    Fudd raised an arm, showing them his gold ring, a sign that he was a royal advisor. They wouldn’t attack him if they saw it. He hoped. In his most commanding voice, he said, “Take me to Grissel.”
    No one answered. Even for a Goblin, it’s not polite to speak with a full mouth. But they pointed to a crooked, gray house at the top of a crooked, gray hill. Fudd thanked them, kicked at a Goblin child who was at that moment gnawing on his leg, and then made his way up to the house.
    As it turned out, Grissel was sitting on a rock in front of the house, as if he’d expected Fudd to come. Over the past few years, he’d grown meaner-looking than when Fudd had last seen him. Like most other Goblins, his clothing was unimaginative and in need of serious repair. Fudd tilted his head toward Grissel, not a deep bow as you’d have to give a royal, but still a show of respect.
    “I knew you’d come, Fartwick,” Grissel said, licking his lips. “Your smell arrived faster than you did.”
    Fudd wanted to point out that Goblins—who avoided water because of the welts it left on their skin—were the worst smelling of any Underworld creature (except perhaps for Trolls, who often create their own swimming holes with how much they sweat). But rather than insult someone who had the ability to swallow him whole, he said, “It’s an honor to speak with you, Grissel.”
    Grissel didn’t act like he was honored to speak with Fudd. Instead, he looked at Fudd like he wasn’t sure whether to eat him headfirst or feet first.
    “What do you want with the Goblins?” Grissel finally asked.
    Fudd’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe you heard about our queen. She died the other night. Something scared her to death.”
    Grissel couldn’t hold back the smile on his face. “I